Misspent Youth (17 page)

T
HE BARMAID AT THE
V
AULTS
gave Jeff a wide knowing smile as she pulled three pints for him. He endured it awkwardly, impatient for the glasses to fill. It was like being taunted by school-yard bullies. Nothing you could say to make her stop, nowhere to go to avoid her gaze.

Once the last drop of beer came out of the pump tap he hurriedly dropped a hundred-euro cash card on the bar, and fled back to the table with the three glasses. “Jesus, does everybody know?”

Alan chuckled as he lifted his glass. “’Fraid so, old boy. There’s poetic justice for you.”

“How the hell is this poetic justice?”

“Without your memory crystal there would never be this god-awful Orwellian twenty-four-hours-a-day, every-street-in-every-town surveillance. We simply couldn’t store that much data, not on good old-fashioned hard drives. The insurance company would never have put that camera outside your flat. Your little friend could have gone home without anyone ever seeing. Instead, you came along with your great save-the-world-from-capitalism crusade, and now you can’t actually get crime insurance coverage unless there is a Big Brother camera pointing at your front door. Cheers!” He took a gulp of beer.

“Hey, releasing the memory crystal was never about politics.”

“You changed the world,” James said. “Now live in it. We have to.”

Jeff gave his friend a surprised look. There had been a lot of anger in James’s voice. For once the big man wasn’t happily slurping down his beer.
Now what have I done?
He’d come to the pub purely so he could get out of the manor. Life at home was not good right now.

“Could be worse,” Alan mused. “The world could have turned out like it did in
Blade Runner.
”

James took a long drink. “That would have been preferable.”

“What the hell is up with you?” Jeff asked.

“Nothing wrong with me. How about you?”

Jeff couldn’t figure this out at all. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“So we gather.”

“You’re not seriously upset about me meeting that girl, are you?”

James gave him a moody glare over the rim of his glass. “I don’t know, which one?”

“Come on, you two,” Alan said. He was looking between them with quite a degree of discomfort. “We’re not re-creating the end of
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly
here.”

“Good!” Jeff took a long drink, deliberately ignoring James. He knew now. Somehow his old friend had found out about him and Nicole.
And what do you say to that?
The man’s granddaughter. Small wonder he was so angry. He suddenly wondered if Nicole had come clean and told James herself because Jeff had kept canceling their meetings.

“I never could work out which one was supposed to be the ugly,” Alan said.

“Lee Van Cleef,” James said irritably.

Jeff had always supposed it was Eli Wallach, but kept quiet.

“So what did Lacey have to say for himself at your dinner?” Alan asked.

“Not much. He asked me if I’d say a few words in favor of his campaign.”

“Jesus, what did you tell him?”

“I said I’d think about it. Nobody got back to me about it after the evening, not even Lucy Duke.”

“You’re a civil servant,” James said. “They can’t use you; you’re supposed to be impartial.”

“I am not a bloody civil servant.”

“Government pays for you, you’re a civil servant.”

“That is such a load of crap.”

“Why? We paid for your precious treatment. And that whole bureaucratic con trick must have added a couple of percent to everyone’s income tax. Now we’re paying you again to work on their next pie-in-the-sky idea. I mean, Jesus H. Christ, they’re already leaking that top bracket income tax is going to hit seventy-five percent next budget. And it gets spent on the likes of you.”

“The high temperature superconductor is not pie in the sky,” Jeff said with forced politeness. “It’ll be a huge boon for everyone.”

“Except for the established energy suppliers,” James said. “It will ruin them, and for what purpose?”

Jeff cast a confused glance at Alan, who just shrugged. “What?”

“We don’t need your stupid government project,” James snapped. “We have enough energy, and if we need more the market will find ways of supplying it.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, we do not have enough energy. How can you say that, you’re the same generation as me, you’re damn well old enough to remember what we had back in the last century. And now look at us, most of the population can’t afford a car anymore.”

“They could if you hadn’t taxed them out of existence.”

“Me?” Jeff exclaimed. “What do you mean, me?”

“Well I don’t count you on my side.”

“Oh…” Jeff stood up, and gave his old friend a disgusted look. “Enough. I don’t have to put up with this shit.” He made to leave, then abruptly turned, his forefinger wagging accusingly at James. “And next time, have the courage to come out with what really bothers you.”

S
OPHIE HAD CHANGED HER HAIRSTYLE.
It had been cut short and dyed an even lighter blonde.

“I like it,” Annabelle told her when they went for their gym session together. It was something she tried to fit in most Sunday evenings, and if she couldn’t make it then she rescheduled for sometime during the week. Keeping herself in shape was an interest that had grown steadily over the last few years. She would never be the Amazon that Stephanie was; she wasn’t that tall, for a start. But the way her figure had developed was a marvelous compensation for a lack of wealth—she was determined to keep that advantage; the way her mother (only forty-eight, for heaven’s sake) had started to balloon was a constant worry. So every week she just kept going on the weights and presses and treadmill a little longer than Sophie, keeping her abs perfectly flat and her legs toned.

Sophie ran her hand through her hair. The front was slightly spiked. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” It was a kind of cross between butch and cute. “Suits you.”

“Thanks.”

Annabelle went straight to the bench press, and started lifting. Sophie climbed onto the treadmill.

“So what happened after I left?” Annabelle asked. Tim had sent eight avtxts through the afternoon, becoming progressively more frantic. She’d finally relented on the bus home and replied, agreeing to meet up as normal tomorrow. It would be awful, she knew, he’d be groveling for hours.

“We just got totally blasted and slept in the caravan,” Sophie said. “There were sleeping bags. I spent the night on one of the couches. God, was I so much hungover. Not as bad as Colin, though. He looked really ill, like he was dying.”

Annabelle pushed hard, forcing the weights up. “What about Tim?”

“Crashed same as the rest of us. His gestapo babysitting squad were really pissed off at having to hang around in their car all night.”

“Right.” Annabelle sat upright, and wrapped her arms around the hinged front bars, gritting her teeth as she pulled them around.

“What? It’s going well with Tim?” Sophie’s voice was thick with irony.

“No, but…I’m not sure if Tim doesn’t have a problem, you know. A real one. He gets like that every weekend.”

“We all do.”

“No. Not the way he does. He goes at it like it’s a challenge, either drink or synth8, doesn’t matter which. By the end of the night he’s always blasted.”

“You know what he’s like, always desperate to be one of the pack. Anything we do, he tried to do it that bit harder. Typical male behavior. Simon’s the same. I’d have thought you’d noticed that. They’ve got a real little contest going there. It’s all about who’s got the biggest willy.”

“It’s so stupid. What’s Tim got to struggle for? He’s rich, and he’s smart…well, clever, anyway. Have you seen his grades? He had Oxford and Cambridge offering him scholarships, for Christ’s sake. I work my ass off at school, and I can’t get those sort of grades. The best I got was an acknowledgment that they’ll consider me for a place. Then every Saturday he turns into a total zonehead.”

“That must be frustrating for you.”

“It pisses me off, yeah.”

“Is that what last night was all about?”

Annabelle strained harder against the bars. “I’d just had enough. It was boring, especially after the reservoir.”

“I suppose you’re right. But we needed to celebrate. You have to admit the Jet Ski was good fun.”

“I don’t have any problem with that. I just want him to behave normally afterward.”

“We spent most of this morning on the lake as well. You should have come back. I’m getting good at dodging those buoys.”

Annabelle thought back to what she’d been doing for fun that afternoon. Remembering Derek’s arrogance made her skin tingle. It put her in a wicked mood. “Keep a secret?”

Sophie’s face lit up with interest. “You bet.”

“I mean, really.”

“If it’s important, yeah. You know I can.”

“Jeff hit on me yesterday morning.”

“Jeff…” Sophie took a moment to make the connection. Her hand slapped the treadmill’s off switch. “You are so much kidding me! Tim’s dad, Jeff?”

Annabelle grinned at her friend’s reaction; very little managed to shock Sophie. “Yes.”

“Oh my
God
. That’s…God. He’s just been all over the news streams with that girl from the awards ceremony. Isn’t she enough?”

“Apparently not.”

“Wow, what do they put in that rejuvenation treatment? Raw Viagra? I mean, he’s nearly, what, eighty?”

“You’ve seen how old he looks. Not five years older than Tim.”

Sophie folded her arms, giving Annabelle a very curious look. “Yeah, but, God. Hitting on you. His son’s girlfriend. That’s like incest or something. Got to be illegal.”

“Like son, like father.”

“Are you winding me up?”

“It’s not the first time someone’s hit on me.”

“No, but not their father.”

“Actually, yes, I think. Mike Haulsey’s dad was certainly sneaking looks when he thought I couldn’t see.”

“Men always hit on you. Me too, occasionally.”

“So there you are. What’s new?”

“The fact that Jeff’s eighty,” Sophie said emphatically.

“So far all the eighty-year-olds I’ve met have looked eighty, even with genoprotein. Jeff certainly doesn’t.”

“Does Tim know about this?”

“God, no. He’s insecure enough as it is.”

“You’re really supportive, aren’t you,” Sophie said sarcastically.

“Do you think I should tell him?”

“No.” Sophie curled her lips in a half-sneer. “He’s so insecure something like that would flip him right over the edge.”

They shared a sisterly grin.

“Well, then,” Annabelle said.

“So what are you going to do?”

“Don’t know, try and stay out of his way, I suppose.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Tim’s or Jeff’s?”

“Jeff’s!”

“I’d scream the house down.”

“What good would that do?”

“It would make sure he wouldn’t do it again. Not ever.”

“Yes, but it would hurt people, too.”

“You’re trying to protect him, are you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“That’s it,” Sophie said with a devilish gleam. “That’s why you’re sounding me out, to see how I’d react. My God, Annabelle, you’re so much atrocious. I don’t believe it. You want to shag Jeff.”

“I do not!”

“You just said it. He doesn’t look eighty. I mean, he looks barely a couple of years older than Tim. It’s actually spooky how similar they are. You want to trade up, don’t you?”

“No.” She was trying to laugh, but it came out more like a guilty snort.

“Makes sense to me. I mean, think of the advantages. He’s rich and famous; it’s like he was his generation’s Sir Mitch. He’s experienced, which has got to count for something in bed. Hey, I bet he knows all sorts of tricks that’ll ring your bell. The age difference obviously doesn’t bother him. I mean, he must have been sixty-plus when he married Tim’s mum. How old was she back then? She only looks about a couple of years older than us now. And we all know he certainly doesn’t have a conscience, so he’s not going to plague you afterward.”

“Are you saying I should?” Annabelle had the uncomfortable recollection of the Rutland nonworking mothers club, and their discussion along similar lines.

“I’m not saying anything. You’re the one who has to decide.”

“There is nothing to decide.” Annabelle shoved herself back into the bench, and resumed her lifts. “Nothing.”